when ends this run
I tell
I am a human good
I carry my pain mask
of silver which grew up deep
in flesh the bled flows
my mornings can be your nights and
my nights can be edge of time
I am
a human as
anyone else
swimming through the daily asphalt
of the plumb city
leaving my mark
of earth
I leave the curtain over
a field
in which kill themselves dolls
with rotten eyelids
with leaning mouths
as in one last call
I am a good man
I don't watch
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem